


you got eternity for takin' stock

by dustywords



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, no one dies, the ocean's 11 trilogy inspired this one, this is a heist au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustywords/pseuds/dustywords
Summary: Shaw thinks about the lame ass robbery she left behind when Reese called. Her throat burns when she downs the first shot and gets comfortable on the bar stool. This son of a bitch got her already hooked for his risky heist idea.(a heist au)





	1. planning

**Author's Note:**

> tfw you want to do some casual research about heists for your ongoing fic, but instead it inspires an entire fic on its own. that's what happened here, folks. blame my research for this heist au.
> 
> many, many thanks to weytani and her awesome beta skills!! 
> 
> title was borrowed from "gritty shaker" by david holmes

 

**26 six days until the night of the heist**

 

The default ringtone of her Sony Ericsson rings through the darkness right when she steps through the hole in the wall.

Shaw stops walking towards the closed vault, ignoring the looks she gets from her temporary teammates on this small heist, and pats her jacket and then her pants for her stupid phone. She turns around, because the two men with masks at the closed vault door are getting fidgety. The team leader, Tomas Koroa, sighs behind her.

She fishes the phone out with her gloved hand, glances at the ‘Unknown Caller’ on the screen and presses the left button to accept the call. “Yes?” This better be good.

“I’m out,” John Reese says in lieu of a greeting. They are both not big fans of small talk and it seems like three years of prison time didn’t change that. And judging by the quality of the call, he’s using a payphone.

Shaw can feel a growing itch on her nose because of that ski mask she’s wearing. She rubs the mask over her nose a little, thinks about the money she could make on this heist and makes a decision. “Alright,” she says, ends the call and stuffs the phone back into the right pocket of her black cargo pants. She turns around and looks at Tomas, who lifts his shoulders and hands in a wordless question. The two dudes at the vault door wait for her to pick up the drill from the bag they carried inside with utmost care and do her magic on the lock.

She only needs a few seconds to make a decision. Then she starts to take her mask off. “Gotta go,” she announces in a flat tone, throws the mask to the floor and marches out of the cut out hole in the wall.

Tomas stage whispers her name but she doesn’t stop.

 

*

 

They meet at the diner nearby the payphone Reese used to call her. It’s located in New Jersey.

The diner is old and probably hasn’t been renovated in a while. The black and white checked linoleum looks used up and the dark blue pleather of the booths had seen their best days a few years ago. The coffee is excellent though, and so are the banana chocolate chip pancakes.

Reese is nursing his second cup of coffee and watches her devour her third and last pancake. “It’s good to see you,” he smiles over the rim of the mug. He has a beard and his salt-and-pepper hair is in desperate need of a trim. He’s slicked it back and it looks awful.

“You look like crap.” Face-wise at least, especially with that hair. Clothes-wise he looks pretty good. It has its perks to get arrested in a tailored tux. One that has been ironed by the looks of it.

Reese forms a thin line with his lips, narrowing his eyes. “Prison isn’t a spa.”

Shaw nods and lifts both brows, silently judging from her spot. If he sees it, he doesn’t say anything. “Why did you call me first and not Finch?” She cuts right to the chase, pushing her now empty plate a little away from her. It scratches on the table.

Reese sighs and finally puts the mug down. Even if that means she has to look at his stupid grey beard now. “I’m in trouble,” he starts.

“That’s news to me.”

“No, not that kind of trouble.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

Reese gives her a look. “Anyway,” he sighs. “Do you know what the others are doing?”

“Staying far away from any jobs you have in mind,” she immediately says, slightly amused. It’s a joke, obviously. She hasn’t seen the others in, well, almost three years. Not all of them, at least. She sometimes gets drinks with Carter and Zoe when she’s around. Nothing she feels like sharing with John. “It was stupid luck they only got your stupid ass.”

“Thanks, Shaw.”

She continues to smile sweetly at him. “Any time.” She’s kinda missed this. But then there is this glimmer in his eyes, this determined glow that means he’s about to talk business. Her curiosity grows and her smile shrinks. “What kind of trouble?”

Reese rests his bent arm on the table and leans his mouth against the closed fist. Then he looks at her, stretching his arm again. “Did you notice what year we have?” he asks, as if this was a normal question.

Shaw looks around, wondering if she missed a vital part of this conversation. “What?” she asks and doesn’t hide her confusion.

Reese shrugs. “I got out of prison one year early.”

“Oh.”

“For a price.”

“I don’t want to hear your soap stories, John.”

He glares at her. Shakes his head and clears his throat. “Carl Elias called me and offered me a deal.” That’s all he says. Then he leans back and looks out the window, gazing at the rising sun.

And really, that’s all he needs to say to render Shaw speechless.

But only for like half a minute.

“How hard is it?”

“It’s not impossible.”

“John.” It’s a warning, simple but effective.

He almost smiles. And then he tells her everything.

 

*

 

The drive back to New York in her Pontiac GTO 1967 is silent, mainly because Reese is asleep.

That long phone call with Finch got him all tuckered out.

Shaw rolls her eyes and tries not to think about how she’s slowly but surely getting roped back into some Reese certified kind of bullshit. Lucrative, but dangerous. She’s listened to his story and to what condition he got out earlier than expected.

Elias’ fine print for getting Reese out of prison sooner is impossible to fulfill.

 

*

 

It’s late evening, and the gang’s all there when they arrive at the vast loft apartment that Finch owns. He’s as always dressed in a three part suit, the colors of the suit and the tie creating a picture of harmony in various shades of blue. “Come in, the rest are already here.” Shaw nods and follows the sound of music and voices.

Frank Sinatra is playing, “This Town” is on.

She stops when she enters the open living room slash dining room slash kitchen. Only solid pillars of concrete are left standing to support the ceiling, every wall that Finch didn’t need had been ripped out. She hasn’t been here since their last heist that went south.

She looks around.

Leon Tao is going through Finch’s fridge, mayonnaise in one hand, salad and toast balancing in the other. Fusco is standing right next to him with a bottle of beer in his hand, watching him.

Zoe Morgan and Joss Carter are sitting at the bar not too far away from the open kitchen, nursing their Martinis and laughing about something. Frankie Wells plays barkeeper and tries to throw and catch the silver cocktail shaker while simultaneously making it look like it’s no effort at all. She almost fails. How this girl is the best person to beat the lock of a safe is a mystery. Harper Rose is filming this disaster with her phone while also sipping from her red wine.

Dani Silva is lounging on the couch, engrossed in a debate about the best climbing equipment with Kelli Lin. Kelli is peeling peanuts and nodding along to whatever Dani is explaining right now.

They’re all here.

They nod and smile at her until Carter’s smile freezes and she rolls her eyes.

She looks to Reese, who just appeared next to her.

Explains Carter’s reaction.

It would feel a lot more like coming home if he wasn’t so tense next to her with the look of a dying man on his face. At least he’s showered and visited a barber on their way here.

“I am glad you all had time on such a short notice,” Finch starts, who walks now past Reese and adjusts his glasses. “But this is more than just a homecoming party for John. And please, be aware that nothing is set in stone and you can walk out of that door any time. No hard feelings,” Finch adds to further ruin the good mood.

“Did someone die and Reese is now planning an elaborate plan to get his revenge?” Leon pipes up, holding a finished sandwich in his hands.

Reese looks almost offended. “No,” he sighs.

Carter is giving him the stinky eye.

Shaw hides her chuckle and walks over to Frankie, who is still shaking some concoction that no one should drink judging by the lined up bottles on the counter. “You got anything stronger down there?”

Frankie crouches down and after checking some bottles she comes up with a half full bottle of Absolut Vodka. “I found this?”

“That’ll do.”

She can’t listen to this story _again_ while being sober.

 

*

 

She’s aware that she could walk out of this loft any time and that no one would hate her for it.

Shaw thinks about the lame ass robbery she left behind when Reese called.

Her throat burns when she downs the first shot and gets comfortable on the bar stool.

This son of a bitch got her already hooked for his risky heist idea.

 

*

 

“Wait, wait—so he told you before he got you out of prison that you would owe him a favor?” Carter asks and oh boy, Reese is a dead man. Her brows are going lower with each spoken syllable. “Don’t you ever learn from your mistakes?”

The air of this relaxed little get together has changed into a charged mess of disbelief, confusion and Reese’s desperation. “I thought I was agreeing to a simple deal,” Reese defends himself and tries his winning smile on Carter.

Zoe snorts.

Harper mouths affectionately, “you idiot,” at Reese.

Carter glares daggers at him.

Looks like she won’t forgive him in this life time for getting arrested right before their big date or whatever.

Shaw leans back on her bar stool and holds her third shot. “Nothing is ever simple with Elias,” she points out, finishing the shot she was holding in her hand. Frankie refills it after a moment.

“Okay, but what exactly got you so worked up?” Fusco asks, and judging by how everyone turns to look back at Reese (even Finch) it seems to be a question everyone is dying to hear the answer to. “It must be big if Glasses called all of us here.”

Finch looks mildly irritated at the use of his old nickname. Somehow it stuck with Fusco and now he can’t let it go.

“It’s a risky job,” Reese starts, evasive as ever. He’s good at this. Shaw imagines the poor soul who had to interrogate this asshole. He probably smiled a lot like a little shit, leaning back on the metal chair that is screwed to the ground.

“Yeah, man, we got that. Come on, spill the rest of the story,” Leon urges on, licking his fingers. The name drop of Carl Elias clearly didn’t hurt his appetite. Even Fusco looks a little disgusted as he watches him eat.

Shaw averts her gaze and stares at the couch table, but she could swear to hear a quiet “stop chewing with an open mouth”.

“He gave me a name, a deadline and a specific task,” Reese continues to dodge the reality that burns on his tongue. He takes a deep breath and crosses his arms. His body is already admitting defeat. “He gave me a little over three weeks to put a team together and make a plan on how to rob Jeremy Lambert’s three casinos in Vegas.”

His words drop like a bomb.

There is complete silence.

Dani and Kelli stare at him as if he’d just announced his intent to become a Good Citizen and work for the law enforcement. Fusco shakes his head in disbelief and Leon gapes with wide eyes first at Reese, then at Finch, who is standing perfectly still and stares at the wooden floor.

Carter is pinching the bridge of her nose while Zoe keeps sipping on her (second) Martini. Frankie stops throwing the shaker into the air and looks around, as if waiting for someone to snap. Harper looks at Shaw and she simply shrugs.

She’s listened to this crap already.

“Are we talking about John Greer’s adopted son? That Jeremy Lambert?” Dani asks, shifting on the couch. “Please tell me it’s a different Lambert.”

“I’m sorry,” Reese apologizes.

Zoe shakes her head. “Do you know what his old man did to people that owed him money and didn’t pay back on time? He broke their knees and then he went after their families to ruin them,” she recounts the well-known stories. Greer is maybe not a thief like them, but he sure does know how to deal with one.

He’s dead now. But his son is, from what Shaw knows, only a little better. He skips the knee breaking and goes straight to ruining the lives of the offender’s family.

Shaw wonders if the rumors about Elias’ planned expansion in Las Vegas getting crossed by Greer and his son are true. It looks like it.

She stares at Reese again. “Looks like someone got tricked into doing someone else’s dirty work,” she quips and earns an icy look from Reese. “What? Just stating something probably everyone’s thinking right now.”

“Well, I’m actually confused by the three casinos part,” Leon admits. “I thought the third one was actually more of a hotel?”

“But it’s still got a casino,” Fusco says.

“Yes, but—”

“The guests have to sleep somewhere, Leon,” Frankie throws in.

“Not to mention that it’s a very lucrative way to ease hotel guests into lounging around the casino multiple times a day,” Harper chimes in.

Shaw gives her a disturbed look.

Harper shrugs when she meets her gaze. “I’ve been looking into buying a hotel,” she tells her.

“Wait, so does that mean all three casinos share one vault?” Carter asks, frowning.

Reese nods, only once.

Carter purses her lips. “Well, the security is going to be a nightmare.”

Zoe agrees with a nod, Frankie just sighs.

Finch still hasn’t said anything, which is curious. Reese told him about his little problem before they left the diner, he’s had enough time to make up his mind.

The others, like Shaw, keep waiting for the verdict. Which is pretty obvious: you can’t rob three casinos _at once_. Robbing one is already impossible.

“It could be done,” Reese starts.

“In what world?” Dani asks in a friendly tone. “Are they spreading lies about the real world in prison?”

“And why Jeremy Lambert?” Kelli wonders.

“Haven’t you heard about the rumors?” Zoe asks, looking at Kelli now.

“Yeah,” Carter nods. “The rumors how Greer tricked Elias before he died and made him lose a fortune, I think 100 million dollars?”

“I heard it was 120,” Leon says.

Carter motions with her hand at him and looks back at Kelli.

Kelli’s gaze snaps back to Reese, who is busy avoiding to look in Shaw’s direction.

It doesn’t save him. “Lambert’s dad pissed off Elias and the only way that guy knows how to get his revenge is to pay back with equal force. He would be financially ruined, right?” Shaw keeps digging. “Perfect revenge plan for Elias.”

“But Elias isn’t financially ruined,” Harper mumbles.

“Semantics,” Shaw huffs.

Reese makes a thoughtful sound, looks at Finch and then back at the group again. “From what I could find out about Lambert, it looks like he actually isn’t in control of his own hotel. In order to build the monstrosity, he had to take on big loans from people that aren’t necessarily his friends. That means robbing him wouldn’t necessarily ruin him right away, but he’d have a hard time to make enough money in the first quarter to pay those loans back on time. He could be kicked out from his own board.”

“What about insurances?” Dani asks with crossed arms. “He would get the money back.”

“Elias said that he’d take care of that,” Reese simply says.

“Oh, Elias is playing dirty,” Shaw concludes and snorts. “Dammit, Reese. Couldn’t you come back with a simple bank robbery?” To be fair, though, even bank robberies aren’t simple anymore. She remembers hers gone wrong in Berlin shortly after Reese got arrested and well.

In her defense, it wasn’t her fault the job ended in an explosion and no money.

Reese rubs his temple and steps over her question. “The heist is complicated, risky but—not impossible. And we’ve done heists that were said to be impossible, yet we pulled them off.”

“But we didn’t have this pressure,” Frankie says and makes a face. “Maybe financial pressure,” she relents after a moment passes, snipping something off her leather jacket.

“Well, I think I am out of this one,” Zoe says, puts her Martini glass down and smoothes down her black dress when she gets off her bar stool. “I am glad you got out early, really. But this is—”

“Why almost four weeks?” Shaw suddenly asks. “That’s generous.”

Fusco nods. “True. You sure Elias hired you?”

“It’s not generous,” Reese says. “But there is a box fight in Vegas in three weeks or so. I don’t know who’s in the ring, but it’s a big fight.”

“That means there will be more people and more security around the casinos,” Kelli tells him. “This job keeps looking more and more impossible.”

“What John is trying to say is that the shared vault of the three casinos in question has to be filled with enough money for that night,” Finch tunes in to help his friend in question out. He takes his phone out, types something in and reads for a few seconds over something. “If we’re lucky, there could be over 160 million dollars down in that vault.”

Zoe slowly sits back down.

Leon whistles. “That’s a lot of money.” Shaw can already picture him wasting that money away in some illegal poker games.

“The risk is still the same,” Finch tries to remind everyone.

“Gotta put something aside for my pension,” Fusco thinks aloud, ignoring Finch’s worries entirely.

Dani sighs wistfully. “I haven’t been in Vegas for a while.”

“14.5 million for each of us, right?” Kelli checks in and Dani nods next to her. “I mean, we do get to keep the money, right?”

“Elias doesn’t want the money,” Reese assures her.

Finch looks more and more like he wants to add something in terms of how dangerous this endeavor is, but even Carter looks like she’s on board. She rolls her eyes at Shaw when she realizes that Shaw is watching her with a small smirk.

“Three weeks is a lot of time to prepare,” Shaw says and turns to look at Reese again, already feeling the rush of excitement running down her spine. She starts to think that dropping that 50k job with Tomas and his crew wasn’t a mistake. “I mean, it depends on the vault and security system, but…” She’s going over in her head what kind of explosives she could use for this one. Depends on what kind of door guarding the vault they’re looking at.

And Reese is in one point right: they did a lot of risky gigs together already. They’re a good team; each member here knows what to do. Of course things could go south, like last time they did a big heist together that got Reese behind bars.

But each heist is different.

“I’ll have a look into this,” Finch promises and that’s him signing up for the Lambert Heist. The others follow until all eyes rest on Reese again.

“Alright,” Reese nods, clearly relieved.

 

*

 

It’s on the way to the airport that Shaw realizes no one asked Reese what would happen if he failed.

Then again, it’s Elias. She isn’t sure if she wants to know.

 

*

 

**25 days until the night of the heist**

 

Finch books Shaw, Zoe and Carter suites in the luxurious hotel that Jeremy Lambert owns. While the whole plan will be discussed later, Finch and Reese tell them that living at the hotel will make their tasks easier.

Everybody’s checked in under an alias, of course.

The rest of the crew are lounging around Finch’s villa with the 12 rooms he owns here in Las Vegas. It really pays off having a billionaire on the team.

Shaw has no idea on which floor the others are staying, but she is happy with her 6th floor suite. The king size bed with the cream colored bed clothes has a mattress that is too soft for her back, but it’s just for a little over three weeks. She’ll manage.

In general the hotel is drowning in luxury: the Italian marble used for the floors in the entrance hall and the hallways leading to either restaurants or the casino are in a sickly beige color that Shaw hates the moment she’s forced to walk on in it with her black high heels. The walls are covered in expensive wallpaper, and the lights are just bright enough to highlight their dark purple color.

Shaw is no fan of this hotel.

She has a quick shower, puts on a white dress and high heels, just to keep up the picture of some well-off real estate broker from L.A. who wants to gamble some of her money away and call it a ‘relaxing vacation’.

She leaves the room and goes to the elevator, to get to the hotel owned parking lot, where a rented car is waiting for her. Finch has given them all an address where they will meet in 20 minutes to finally discuss the plan.

 

*

 

Finch has rented an entire empty warehouse. It’s where he announces the plan of their heist. There are slides with blue print copies, red arrows and many voiced out warnings. Shaw pays attention but she tunes out the many warnings and the repeated doom-mongering, because honestly? No one needs that. All she needs to know is how many explosives they’re going to need for The Big Night.

After he’s done explaining each step of the plan there is silence around them. Just the soft buzzing of the small projector fills the air.

Fusco moves in his seat and makes a worried face. Dani and Kelli are already calculating something, and Zoe is going through something on her phone. The rest seem to try to get the whole plan together in their heads.

Shaw takes her phone out and sends a quick message to Michael Cole. She’s not even sure where he is at the moment, better to check in.

“Okay, there were many things that you said were impossible to do,” Leon starts. “But you never actually said how we get the money out of the vault and out of the casino, so…how do you expect us to do it?”

“Yeah,” Fusco joins him and laughs. “Do you expect us to just walk out of there with 160 million dollars in cash with no one chasing us?”

Reese looks at Finch who lifts his brows and makes a vague hand gesture. Reese takes that as the cue to look at Fusco again. “Yes,” he simply says.

Then the meeting is dismissed.

 

*

 

**20 days until the night of the heist**

“Do I even wanna know what you need these explosives for?” Michael Cole asks her and slides the door of his van open. There is a black duffel bag waiting for her.

Shaw smiles at him. “Have you forgotten our Berlin job?”

“Never,” he chuckles and gets the bag out for her. “It’s good to see you’re still in the business. Haven’t seen your handwriting anywhere the past three years.”

“Had to keep a low profile because of the—”

“Ah, yes, right. Sorry. How is he?”

“A free man again.”

Cole smirks. “Good to hear.”

“Hey, what’s the code for the lock?”

“The usual.”

“You haven’t changed a bit, huh?” Shaw opens the bag after unlocking the small 3-digit-lock that is attached to the zipper of the bag to keep it closed. She has a brief look inside and bites her lip. Oh, she’s missed this. “How much do I owe you?”

“Tell Finch to pay me the usual, Shaw,” Cole tells her with a shrug. “Hey, call me if you make it out alive of this heist. Might have a job for you soon,” he offers, and shuts the door of his van with a loud slam.

Shaw shoulders the bag and makes a salute gesture. “I think I could use a vacation after this one.”

“Oh yeah? Where would you go?” he asks, genuinely interested.

“I bought a villa in Italy. Lake Garda.”

“Whaaaat.” Cole laughs. “Three years, huh?”

“A long time.” Shaw flashes him one last smile, shakes his hand and then she walks back to her rented BMW that is parked on the other end on this floor of the parking lot.

 

*

 

She lets a valet get the duffel bag into her room. The zipper is locked anyway—she tells him that her telescope is inside, even though the bag is not heavy enough for that. Then she puts a folded 50 dollar bill into the chest pocket of his suit jacket that seems to be the norm around here for each hotel employee, and he gives her a vibrant smile back.

Whatever.

Shaw watches him disappear in the elevator and turns around.

That’s when she sees her.

Her blue dress and the cream colored high heels she wears show off her long legs. She’s in the midst of putting strands of long brown hair behind her ear, one fluid movement accompanied by a charming smile towards the man next to her Shaw just now notices. He’s wearing a grey suit, an expensive watch and probably Italian leather shoes, black with a red sole.

It’s Jeremy Lambert.

He is talking animatedly about something, takes the woman’s hand and kisses her knuckles. It’s right in this moment that the woman looks up, right at Shaw. Then they round the corner down to the exit of the hotel and the brief yet weird moment is broken.

Shaw frowns.

“Whatcha looking at?”

Shaw turns around to glare at Fusco, who’s taking a sip from a small water bottle. He’s wearing the mandatory suit every employee of the hotel casino has to wear but his isn’t black. It’s _gold_. She makes a point to look and sound disgusted. “Don’t you have to work?”

Finch got him a job at the hotel casino to have someone on the floor during the heist to report back to them about the situation there.

Fusco scoffs and screws the water bottle shut. “I’m on my break. I did some research and wow, do you know how much money Lambert had to invest into this hotel? I mean, he built this thing on his own, okay, unlike the two other casinos, ‘cause they belonged to his dad and…”

Shaw wonders when he will notice that she’s left him standing there, talking to thin air.

 

*

 

Shaw is sitting next to Carter on Finch’s couch, sipping an ice cold Corona directly from the bottle, and listens to Carter’s observations on Lambert so far. This man sounds no different from any other rich asshole Shaw has had the misfortune to talk to. (Finch is the only billionaire she can stand, to be honest.)

The others are busy with their own tasks. Harper Rose is going to pretend to be some super rich woman from London checking into Lambert’s hotel in two days. Which is why she’s currently testing out her British accent, while Frankie gives her a thumbs up or grimaces depending on how well it’s going.

Reese is keeping himself busy with some black leather folder, using a picture Carter has given him earlier to make it look like the black leather folder depicted on it. The fake folder is still missing the gold company brand that the original is sporting on the front side. Lambert gets the folder handed over into his hands every day at 6pm by his security manager. It contains the daily changed security codes for the vault that is underground the three buildings owned by that walnut.

The others (actually just Fusco) are either at the hotel or at the warehouse, where an exact replica of the vault they will rob is built.

Shaw sighs and looks over to Finch in his leather armchair, typing on his laptop and frowning at the screen.

“I don’t have much on Turing, so far,” Carter sighs next to her.

Frankie laughs at something Harper says in a horribly fake sounding British accent.

Shaw doesn’t look away from them. “Turing?” she repeats and takes another swig out of the bottle.

“Lambert’s fiancée.”

Oh.

“She’s probably boring,” Shaw is quick to conclude and shrugs. “Just some chick after his money.”

“Well, she’s actually well off herself. She was a very successful psychotherapist in Los Angeles, and she moved here 2 months ago to be closer to Lambert. She’s looking into buying a new office to start working here in the area again.”

A fucking shrink, Shaw thinks and exhales.

Before Carter can say anything else, the entrance door opens and quick steps in high heels are shortly following. Zoe steps inside the living room with a very serious face. “I think we might have a problem, Harold.”

Finch looks up from his laptop and blinks. “What do you mean?”

“You wanted me to find out more about the company that installed the security system at Lambert’s hotel?”

“Yes, we talked about it just this morning.”

Zoe gives him a look. “Well, the company is shady as fuck. It took me hours to find out anything, and most of my contacts I talked to either didn’t know anything or were too afraid to talk. But I might have a name, I’m just not sure if it’s even the real one.” She reaches into her purse and gets a card out. It’s a simple black card, with white print on it. _Decima_ , that’s all Shaw can read from her spot.

Finch takes the card, looks at it and closes his laptop. “Oh dear,” he mumbles. The others in the room look at him, waiting for a follow up on that reaction. It doesn’t come, not right away.

“What is it?” Reese prods.

“It seems like Lambert has an AI installed in his basement, monitoring the casino floors of each building—and the vault. It doesn’t just notice things, it analyzes them and can tell with a very high accuracy rate if a win was legitimate or expected.”

“That takes all the fun out of it,” Shaw notes.

Finch adjusts his glasses, opens his laptop again and starts typing. “This is a big problem, indeed. If I am right, then Samaritan might ruin our entire plan because it is also guarding the security system of the vault.”

“Samaritan?” Reese repeats with a skeptical look. “That’s how they named it?”

“This Lambert is full of shit,” Shaw agrees and empties her beer bottle. “But can’t you just disable this thing? I mean, we’re cutting the power for 30 seconds in the entire city to get down the elevator shaft, won’t that be enough for us? Can’t you just take out Samaritan for a bit longer?”

“No,” Finch grumbles. “The blackout I’ll create won’t even do anything to it. The generators will kick in and keep it online.”

“But there must be a way,” she tries again.

“The system runs on a secluded power system, and I doubt that many people will have access to it.”

Frankie steps closer to Finch. “Do we even have to turn it off? I mean, its purpose is to monitor the players and control the lock of the vault, right? But if Shaw takes the lock out…?”

Shaw looks back to Finch, awaiting his opinion.

“The moment something is wrong with the lock, it will alert the people monitoring the surveillance feeds. It would have to be shutting down at that point so that we could have a real chance in pulling this heist off.”

“So we’re screwed,” Zoe probes into it again.

Carter shakes her head. “Look, why don’t we keep preparing everything else and maybe the solution to this will come to us. Or we’re just overlooking something here.”

“Very well,” Finch agrees and starts typing again. “It seems like the AI is only connected to the surveillance cameras around the casino floors. The other surveillance cameras are not affected by Samaritan, meaning the footage on the floor where the vault is thankfully isn’t saved on Samaritan’s servers. It’s illegal as it is that he has it online outside of the beta test that is long over.”

Everyone relaxes a little.

“What does that mean for us?” Reese asks.

“It means that you can call Dani and tell her to get inside the server room where the footage of the other cameras is going.” Finch starts packing his laptop into its briefcase and shoulders it. “I’ll be going to the hotel now.”

Shaw gets up to get rid of her empty beer bottle and passes Reese on her way there. He’s reaching for his phone, picks a number from his contact list and tucks the phone between his head and shoulder. “Hey, Dani. Yeah, listen, Finch is on his way to the hotel… Remember what your task is?”

Shaw decides that she should get back as well.

 

*

 

**19 days until the night of the heist**

 

“ _Caroline Turing is the lucky woman who managed to tame the rich businessman, Jeremy Lambert_ ,” according to the gossip rag Shaw is reading right now and hiding most of her face behind, while sitting in the hotel lobby, watching the woman in question.

This is actually Carter’s job, but she got a call that she is needed at the warehouse, so Shaw agreed to take over and now she’s here. Watching the woman that willingly dates Lambert. Even hauled her whole life over to Sin City for him. Which, if you ask Shaw, is a sin on its own.

It certainly looks like this woman is committed to this relationship that, reading on the flimsy article, is now going strong for 6 months.

Shaw stops reading and lets her gaze wander back to her.

Turing is wearing a black dress and is signing something at the counter of the reception, from time to time looking up and chatting with the receptionist closest to her. Once she laughs and the sound carries over to Shaw’s seat.

“May I bring you anything, Ma’am?”

Shaw lowers the magazine a little and looks up to the face of a friendly smiling valet slash waiter. She smiles and gives her watch a discreet glance. It’s barely 3 pm. “Your best whiskey on the rocks, please,” she orders. It’s too early in the day to take it neat. “Room 6018,” she adds, so it’ll be added to her tab.

“Excellent choice.” He nods and disappears.

Shaw rolls her eyes, picking up the magazine again. She sneaks another look at the reception counter but Turing is gone. She sighs, continuing to stare at the picture of Turing, who was photographed a few days ago while getting into the back of a white Bentley. It’s so cliché, she wants to puke.

“Interesting read?” an amused, female voice asks next to her and Shaw is very glad to be very hard to startle.

She lowers the magazine completely and stares at Caroline Turing’s face up close. She’s sitting in the armchair to her right, a playful smile on her lips. “Hi, I am Caroline Turing,” she introduces herself and sticks her hand out. A giant engagement ring is attached to it.

Shaw shakes it by reflex, noticing how smooth Turing’s hand is. “Sameen Grey,” she returns in kind, glad that Finch is someone who picks easy names for their false identities.

“Are you one of the fundraiser guests? We told them to wait in the lobby if they arrived early,” Turing continues when Shaw remains quiet. “Have you checked in yet?” She looks around as if looking for any sort of baggage.

“Fundraiser?” Shaw repeats lamely. She has heard something about that—she thinks that Frankie and Reese tried to come up with a way to get someone to that fundraiser yesterday.

She can’t remember if they ever found a way.

Turing shrugs. “Yes, Jeremy—my fiancé—he’s organizing a fundraiser. It will take place in this hotel in two days,” the woman says in a nonchalant way, waving her hand. “I thought you might be one of the guests.” It’s almost apologetic, except that it’s not. It sounds more like Turing has _hoped_ Shaw was one of the attending guests for the fundraiser. And now that she’s found out she’s not…

Oh, this shrink is good.

Shaw regrets wearing slacks, a white blouse and a suit jacket. It makes her look like some wealthy Wall Street broker who loves to throw money around on events like a fundraiser.

“I’m not,” Shaw simply says and looks around. Where the hell is her whiskey? She clears her throat.

“But you could be,” Turing says, sounding hopeful again. Then her face falls a little, probably because she’s noticed Shaw’s incredulous look. “This is Jeremy’s thing, and because I haven’t been that long in the city I barely know anyone.”

Shaw tilts her head a little. “I’m not sure I can follow you.”

“I thought I’d invite someone who looks vaguely interesting so I won’t have to die of boredom around people I don’t even know,” Turing laughs, touching Shaw’s arm.

Not only does Shaw look like a Wall Street rat, it’s also way too warm to be dressed in layers like this. “What?” she asks through a puzzled smile.

“Unless raising money for Alzheimer’s research is not your thing,” Turing continues undeterred by any of the reactions Shaw has displayed so far.

God, this is really a job that should be done by Carter. Shaw is good at watching people—thing is, she’s not exactly good at interacting with them. Especially if she has to watch her every word.

Shaw keeps staring at her. Something about this woman is really annoying her. It starts with the amused smile and ends with the annoyingly long legs she has crossed. And of course, there is her stupidly rich and handsome super fiancé who wants to make the world a better place—with fundraisers and overpriced hotel rooms. “So instead of dying of boredom, you just, uh, invite strangers to the fundraiser party your beau is throwing?”

“I saw you yesterday,” Turing tells her. “And now I know your name. You’re not exactly a stranger anymore.”

Shaw swallows and curses that she has let herself be spotted by this woman. Now she’s a face Turing will remember and it will make it harder to move freely around.

Reese is gonna have a field day with this if he finds out.  

The valet from earlier arrives with the ordered whiskey just in time to remind Shaw that this is not the right place to question her decisions. It’s also very Reese-alike to brood over things she can’t change. She should just roll with it, she thinks.

She accepts the drink with a small smile.

“Miss Turing, do you have any wishes?” the valet asks.

“No, thank you, Pascal. However, please tell Greta that the apple pie was delicious, and I would love to get a recipe for it!”

“Of course, I will,” this Pascal promises with a little laugh and leaves them alone.

Shaw stores all that information away.

Turing looks at her again, right in time to watch her take two big sips. “So?”

“Hm?”

“Are you available in two days? For the fundraiser?”

Something about this question makes Shaw’s hair on her neck stand up and it’s not because of the excellent whiskey or because Turing decided to lean in closer. It’s how she’s worded it and how her voice sounds. “You just said it’s really boring there,” Shaw points out, trying to read into the woman’s behavior something other than very subtle flirting.

Turing licks her lower lip without smearing her red lipstick. “Not with the right company,” she smirks and Shaw is pretty sure Turing’s gaze wanders down for a bit before she leans back again and looks at the reception. “But you’re right, typically these fundraisers are pretty dull. I mean, the food isn’t bad, and while they sometimes make me feel like I am just pretty arm candy for Jeremy, the booze is a big plus, too.” She tries to wink and fails.

There is really no other way to read this behavior anymore.

“Sounds exciting,” Shaw says in a flat tone, deflecting whatever Turing is doing here.

Turing chuckles. It’s low and _throaty_. “It will be if you come. Pinky promise.”

Shaw narrows her eyes at that. Good grief.

Turing gets to her feet, all grace with long legs and looks down at Shaw who’s almost done with her whiskey already. Her eyes twinkle. “I’ll have an invitation send up to your room today. Think about it.” She puts a hair strand behind her ear and leaves Shaw with no further comment.

Shaw watches her walk away and she isn’t sure what is more troubling: that Lambert’s better half noticed her or that she’s over all too annoyed with Lambert’s better half to find that troubling.

She frowns at the magazine next to her. “Ugh.” She leaves it there, slams the empty glass down onto the expensive looking glass coffee table and walks away from the lobby.

 

*

 

When she gets back to Finch’s place that day, she meets worried faces and a frustrated Finch in the living room. “Did Reese trash Finch’s car again?” Shaw whispers to Zoe who is eating pasta from a bowl, while watching Finch explain something to Reese, Dani and Leon.

“We’re not alone,” Zoe says in between bites.

“Oh, really, Mulder? Do tell,” Shaw chuckles dryly and waits for Zoe to finish chewing.

Zoe doesn’t look impressed. “Root is in Vegas. Making Finch’s hacker life harder than we all can afford,” she explains and Shaw’s heart sinks a little. “Finch’s words, not mine,” she adds a second later.

“Shit,” she curses.

“Exactly,” Zoe agrees.

“Hey, what’s going on here? I just took a quick shower and now everyone looks like someone died,” Carter says with her hair still wet.

“Root is in Vegas,” Shaw repeats what Zoe just told her. Zoe nods along and continues eating.

Carter stops picking at the hem of her shirt to look at her like someone told her that SVU has been cancelled. “What?”

“I really hate that asshole,” Shaw mumbles, watching how Finch is cleaning his glasses and Reese looks ready to kill someone. “He almost ruined my job in Berlin.”

“Oh yeah, I heard about that,” Zoe says. “How did you get out of there?”

“Blew something up,” Shaw sighs. “In hindsight maybe I shouldn’t have tried to rob a bank a week after Reese got arrested. Bad luck.”

Carter frowns. “I heard this Root was a woman,” she shares with them and shrugs. “Just putting it out there.”

“I don’t care, this Root is still a dick,” Shaw grumbles. Getting locked in the room in front of the vault of the bank? Not funny, and yet exactly what this Root had done. Messed with the system, locked Cole out of it and that was it. Shaw had to use the explosives meant for the vault door to get them out of there.

She’s so gonna punch the punk hiding behind that name. One day.

Shaw looks back at the slowly unfolding meltdown. Frankie is now talking to Reese to put the phone away and not call Stanton to get “some real guns”. Fusco is going through various nicknames for Root that contributes exactly 0% to the current situation. She stops listening to him after he says “Nutter Butter” with a straight face.

“We’re so gonna get arrested,” Shaw says after a moment.

“We won’t even get out of the hotel,” Zoe agrees.

Carter only sighs.


	2. preperation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate title for this chapter: sameen shaw decides to spice up this heist by getting into trouble. 
> 
> also, pls bear with me and my all-over-the-place-updating-skills re: my other stories. i promise, i am updating them soon. VERY SOON.
> 
> anyway, have fun reading this chapter!!

**18 days until the night of the heist**

She doesn’t tell anyone about the invitation resting on the bedside table in her suite. The one that has her fake name printed on it in an elegant, dark font on thick, expensive paper. She had received it earlier this morning, along with her breakfast that she’d ordered up to her room. It even allows her to bring a plus one.

At least there’s no personal note attached to it.

And now she’s having late a brunch at Finch’s place and listens to Leon’s bragging on how he got the blueprints for the vault and the entire floor. Dani and Fusco still exchange a look of utter annoyance, because once Leon starts to brag there is no end in sight. Right now, he’s describing how his contact was dressed. He’s really milking that moment of attention.

Finch still looks a bit down from the fiasco last night, but he says that he’s “working on the problem”. Whatever that means. This Root is no amateur, and if they managed to fiddle with whatever Finch was trying to achieve on his laptop, it’s serious. That name usually means bad news.

And no one in their circles even knows who exactly Root is. That’s what makes it pretty much impossible to find them and confront them.

Shaw sighs.

“You okay?” Kelli suddenly asks next to her, nodding at her plate. “You barely ate anything.”

“My mattress is too soft,” Shaw says, as if that could explain the lack of appetite.

Kelli gives her an emphatic smile after the initial confusion is gone. “That sucks.”

Not that she doesn’t have an appetite, because she’d refilled her plate with waffles just a few minutes ago, but she can’t stop thinking. About the risks, about what happens if she doesn’t go to the fundraiser—Turing already knows she’s staying at the hotel and that she plans on staying there for another two weeks.

Following the invitation sounds like a stupid idea as well, though.

Good thing someone else makes the decision for her.

“Hey, what if we get Harper on that fundraiser? That way she can try to find out if Lambert is going to that big fight or not,” Frankie suddenly suggests, and Shaw’s attention immediately snaps back to the current discussion.

Finch thinks about it, Reese looks vaguely intrigued, and Harper is nodding. “Oh yes, let’s do that,” she says in a thick British accent. It sounds so real that Shaw can’t help but be impressed with her.

Fusco looks speechless, too. “How did she do that?” he asks Dani, who just shrugs.

Finch takes a sip from his tea and sighs. “It is a good idea, but the question is how to get you an invite without raising suspicions? I am not sure if we can count on Lambert inviting newly arrived guests last minute, no matter how rich they might be. You do check in only hours before that event starts.”

“She can go with me,” Shaw says before she can think about it, and then shifts in her seat. Kelli turns so quickly next to her that her knife slides off the rim of her plate.

Reese stares at her from his spot right across from hers. “Shaw,” he starts in his low voice. “What did you do?”

She shrugs. “I got an invite,” she tells him with an even voice.

The silence is dragging on and turning this into an even more awkward moment.

Carter, who is sitting right next to Reese, leans forward. “I’m sorry, what?”

Shaw glares at her. “You heard me.”

“Dammit, Shaw!” Carter will be a great mom one day, if she and Reese get their on-and-off-love figured out. Right now, though, Carter’s mom voice is annoying her.

Finch, sitting at the head of the table, makes a move with his hands as if to break up a fight.

Shaw rolls her eyes. “It’s your fault,” she says while she points at Carter, then she leans back in her seat and crosses her arms. “You wanted me to take over watching Lambert and his stupid fiancée.”

Reese closes his eyes and hides his face in his hands. “You talked to the fiancée,” he says, and it’s not a question, his muffled voice can’t hide the exasperation. He just knows, and maybe calling Lambert’s fiancée stupid was a certain give away.

Fusco outright starts to laugh. Rude.

Shaw can feel how she gets defensive about it. “She talked to me, okay? And hey, I don’t see the problem. You all just talked about how to get Harper on that fundraiser, and I have the solution. We all win.”

“Well, Miss Shaw,” Finch starts, and the use of her last name is a safe sign of him being upset with her, “I don’t think that the fiancée of our target noticing you is a necessarily good thing. It certainly isn’t an ideal situation.”

Shaw shakes her head, staring at the ceiling. “What was I supposed to do? Punch her?” She imagines it right after she says it. It makes her smile a little.

“Not let her spot you and make her want to talk to you!” Finch gives back with a slightly raised voice. He looks irritated, and Shaw realizes that this might be the wrong moment to smile.

Shaw slumps down in her chair. “Now that’s something I can’t control.”

“Is that why you stared at her yesterday when I—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Lionel.”

“But—”

Carter rubs her temple. “How about we all just—I mean, come on, Harold. We don’t have much of a choice here. And we need to know what Lambert’s plan for our big night is going to look like. Shaw’s right,” she says and meets Shaw’s gaze.

And that’s how Shaw got roped into attending that fundraiser now.

 

*

 

**17 days left until the night of the heist**

 

Shaw’s white gown arrives at 3 pm, four hours before the fundraiser takes place. She picks her delivery up from the reception, signs some form and takes the clothes bag that protects the gown off the counter.

Not too far away from her, Harper is checking in, with Frankie and Kelli standing behind her, posing as her security detail. They both wear suits, black aviators, and have wired earpieces in their ears.

“Have a nice day!” the reception lady tells her, hands her a part of that form Shaw just signed and smiles.

Shaw returns that smile and quickly turns around to vanish down the hallway with the elevators.

Harper and Shaw worked last night on a background story to make it believable that they accidentally ran into each other. And since Shaw’s cover is being some rich real estate broker, Harper is going to pretend to be on a hunt for an investment opportunity.

Or in short: They’ll bullshit their way through any other questions that might pop up. It isn’t their first heist, after all.

They meet an hour later in Harper’s new luxurious hotel apartment.

“Wow,” Shaw whistles. She’s impressed. Mainly because the huge dining table is set as if she was holding a dinner party in here later. The silverware is actually gold.

“It’s overkill, isn’t it?” Harper asks from behind and Shaw turns around to meet her shit-eating grin. “I think it’s overkill.”

Shaw hums.

Kelli and Frankie are going through the bar (because why yes, there is a fully stocked bar up here) and gasp from time to time if they stumble over some old, but very expensive wine or whiskey.

“The view is gorgeous, though,” Harper says and steps over the cow skin laid out on the floor as a carpet.

“49th floor has its perks, I guess.”

“What floor are you in?”

“6th.”

“How’s the view there?”

Shaw shrugs. “Didn’t actually check it out.”

“Hm.”

“Harper, you have to look at this!” Frankie calls, and Harper leaves Shaw to stare out of the windows on her own.

Maybe it’s good that Harper will be there tonight, she thinks. And besides, as Jeremy’s soon-to-be wife, she probably has to stick around her fiancé anyway, right?

Shaw hopes so.

 

*

 

Shaw will soon find out that she has never been more wrong in her life.

She and Harper arrive with a polite tardiness of 6 minutes, and Shaw hands her invitation over to some fancy-looking valet that checks it and then tells them where to go. This whole fundraiser takes place in some ballroom that has been prepared and decorated for two days now, according to Carter’s intel. Freesias are everywhere, and the pastel colors of the décor only bite a little with the gold ceiling and the chandeliers lining the long, wide dining table. A small band is playing smooth jazz.

“Are we in Versailles?” Harper whispers in her ear, using her British accent. She has to stay in character, after all.

Shaw gives her a look. “Oh god, he totally got inspired by that, didn’t he?”

“Full of shit,” Harper mouths, because some couple is approaching them. Introductions are made and, lucky for Shaw, Harper is a natural at charming people—especially with that accent.

The couple laughs in under five minutes.

“So, how do you like the weather here? It must be a huge difference compared to London,” says the man whose name is Robert.

Harper laughs. “You have no idea!”

The three of them chuckle over that.

Shaw keeps scanning the room, trying to be subtle about it. There are two emergency exits, guarded by security personnel. The waiters and waitresses are walking around, offering glasses with champagne or small hors d’oeuvres. She spots salmon and caviar.

So it’s gonna be that kind of party.

Shaw snatches a glass of champagne off a tray, flashes a quick smile to the waitress, and tells Harper that she’s going to say hello to someone, just so the couple that are still hanging around them won’t suspect anything.

Harper just nods with a little, questioning smile, but all Shaw offers back is a shrug.

Her white dress is just right for this occasion. She catches some men staring at her, most of them are high rollers she’s spotted at the casino and the various restaurants Lambert’s hotel offers over the past few days. Some nod at her with a smile.

And then the atmosphere changes, because the host and his fiancée arrive. Lambert is wearing a white tux and black bowtie, and Turing is clad in a long black dress that shows a lot of her back. _A lot_.

Shaw swallows.

Lambert’s laugh is obnoxious, very British and makes Shaw crave a second glass of champagne.

What’s worse, though, is that Turing immediately finds her in the crowd and her face lights up a little.

Against her better judgement, Shaw stops another waiter and exchanges her empty glass with a full one.

Lambert is holding some speech. He’s welcoming his guests, talks about the deeper meaning of this night, makes a lame pun and then thanks his “amazing, beautiful fiancée” for all the work she’s done to make this night possible.

Turing lowers her head a little and seems flustered when people applaud her.

Shaw doesn’t move, just continues to stare.

“So, that’s Turing, hm?” Harper says and Shaw gives her a side glance. “She looks good.”

“Please, don’t.”

“What? I’m just making conversation.”

“Remember when you told me to never mention the unresolved sexual tension between you and Frankie again after Christmas ’09? And I held my promise?”

Harper narrows her eyes and takes Shaw’s glass out of her hand to empty it. “Not the same thing, Sameen,” she says with a huff. “Unless you also feel unresolved sexual—”

“Let me stop you right there,” Shaw butts in, and then turns her head right in time to hear Lambert say the words: “Your names are on the table, please find your seat and let’s dine!”

It’s going to be a long night.

 

*

 

Of course, Shaw is sitting right across from Turing. And judging by her amused smile, it isn’t an accident _at all_. Shaw is aware that glaring at the host’s fiancée is not the most polite thing to do, and Harper’s elbow between her ribs tells her as much.

Harper sits to her right and to her left is one of the high rollers that recognized her earlier. They talk a little, Shaw pretends to laugh about some funny remark, all while feeling watched.

“Hey, Jeremy,” some old man two seats away from Turing calls, almost leaning on the table to look at Lambert. If Shaw remembers correctly, he’s a board member of Lambert’s stupid hotel. “You gonna take Caroline to the upcoming fight at the MGM Garden Arena? She asked me about it earlier, and I got some tickets I wanna get rid of,” he laughs and reaches into his suit jacket to retrieve two tickets and wave with them.

Turing looks excited. “Who is going to fight again?” she asks, taking Lambert’s hand while she asks this. Lambert looks oddly pleased about this for someone who should be used to this. They’re engaged after all.

Shaw pointedly ignores Harper’s looks from the side.

The old man names two box fighters and Shaw couldn’t care less about this.

“We’d love to, Charlie,” Lambert says and takes the tickets, kisses Turing’s cheek and that’s that.

They know what they wanted to find out. Harper high fives her under the table.

Then the first course is served.

A soup, out of all things.

Turing smiles at her when their gazes meet over the table.

Ugh.

 

*

 

Shaw has stretched her legs out to fool her body into thinking that maybe a little less rigid posture will help her to enjoy parts of this night. Turing didn’t lie when they first talked in the lobby. Fundraisers are boring. But not everything is bad.

Like the medium rare beef steak she is eating right now, or the excellent wine that goes nicely with the potato wedges. At least it’s not some fancy French main course, like that weird soup. She still has no idea what exactly it was made of or what it was supposed to taste like.

Harper is talking to her neighbor about her reason for being in Vegas, and at least two other people from across the table are listening as well and asking polite questions about how she likes it here. Then they start talking about the gambling industry, and that’s when Shaw tunes out.

Shaw is amused by how easily Harper can get information out from under their noses without having to reveal too many accurate details about herself.

Turing is eating like a bird. Small bites coupled with slow chewing. She’s not looking at Shaw, though. Her attention is now completely on her fiancé and his boring story on how he got the chandeliers for half the price.

It’s a mystery to her why businessmen always feel like they have to measure their dick length in their accomplishments.

And then she feels something touch her feet.

A shoe.

A high heel, definitely belonging to the woman right across from her, who is still not looking at her and eating her salad, all while smiling along to the conversation Lambert is leading.

Shaw tucks her legs under her chair and glares at Turing who is now heartily laughing along with the men who listened to Lambert’s story as well. She laughs, throws her head back and—

She hates everything about this moment.

Especially how much neck and cleavage she gets to see, and when Turing looks at her with dark eyes she knows this was _all done on purpose_.

Harper asking her if she’s alright doesn’t help, either.

 

*

 

After the dessert (a delicious crème brûlée), there’s dancing, delighted laughter, and many checks that are being signed.

Shaw joins the small group doing the latter gathered at the table prescribed for that and fills out her own check. Then she asks a valet where she can find the restroom. She needs a break from all this, but mainly, she needs to get away from another Lambert speech. She’s spotted him walking towards the stage, Turing nowhere to be seen.

Whatever.

She checks her phone on her way to the restroom, but she really doesn’t feel like replying to Reese and Carter’s dozen messages asking her how things are going, and that strangling old white men at a fundraiser is not considered a good socializing skill. Carter wrote that one. It makes her snort, then she puts her phone back into her small bag and enters the restroom.

Shaw closes the door behind her and places her clutch bag on the slim ledge under the giant mirror. She’s glad that no one else is in here and that Harper was too busy secretly snapping pictures and sending them with goofy captions to Frankie to notice her sneaking away.

She stares at her face for a moment, then she starts washing her hands. The door opens and she’s about to curse herself for even thinking that Harper wouldn’t notice her being gone, but it’s not Harper that stops next to her. Too close to be considered anything but a deliberate choice.

Shaw doesn’t have to look up from her soapy hands and the running water to know that it is Turing.

She does it anyway, after she is done washing her hands and drying them off on one of the super soft, white towels. Then she turns around, facing Turing who patiently stands there watching her every move.

It annoys Shaw a lot. The way she just stands there, waiting. And because she’s angry now, she’s going to call this woman out for being borderline stalker-ish at this point. What’s her deal anyway, right?

Turing smiles at her when she stalks closer to her, but it’s different than any other smile she’s seen on this woman’s lips all night. Or ever, really. It has a dangerous tilt to it, something that makes Shaw’s stomach feel warm and tight and—

Her hands are on Turing’s waist before she can realize what she’s doing, and because Turing moves at the same time towards her as she does, their noses bump into each other when they kiss. Shaw bites her lower lip for that, pushing Turing against the sink and curses silently at the height difference. Turing’s long dress doesn’t help either, and yet she somehow still manages to stand between her legs while Turing’s hand wanders over Shaw’s lower back and stops at her ass to squeeze it.

“I’m so glad you could make it to this fundraiser tonight,” Turing sighs against her mouth with a little annoying smile and then kisses her again, tugging her even closer.

“Shut up,” Shaw bites out a moment later and follows with her lips an invisible path down to Turing’s neck, who willingly puts her head back and gasps when Shaw starts to suck her soft skin there. Just a little. She doesn’t leave a mark, she’s not suicidal. It’s just enough to let Turing know that she _could_ if she really wanted to.

There’s a knock outside the door and Shaw groans despite herself, trying to play it cool—but this is really killing the mood.

“Sameen?”

Of course, it’s Harper.

Shaw steps away from Turing to look at her. “You locked the door?” she whispers, kind of impressed. The running water when she washed her hands earlier must’ve swallowed the clicking of the lock.

Turing licks her lips and just nods, her eyes dancing with delight.

She looks like she just made out with someone.

“Hey, Sameen, open up. I know you’re in there!” Harper calls and bangs harder against the door.

“Your friend sounds worried,” Turing whispers in her ear and slips a plastic card into Shaw’s hand, and for a moment there Shaw wonders where that card has been up until now. “Better open that door before she picks the lock,” she suggests, kisses her cheek and then disappears into one of the stalls behind them.

Shaw checks her appearance in the mirror—she looks a little less like she just made out with someone, even if her lipstick is now partly gone—then she grabs her purse, opens the door and pushes past Harper before her friend can even ask anything.

She knows that Harper will follow her anyway.

 

*

 

“I can’t tell you how dumb that is, Shaw,” Harper sighs, not for the first time since they entered the elevator. It’s almost 11 pm and Shaw is very happy to have left this fundraiser behind. They had lingered there for another 30 minutes after the Bathroom Incident, as Harper has repeatedly referred to it. And now they’re finally on their way to their suites.

Shaw rolls her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her hand is still holding the card Turing gave her before they parted. Turing, who she hasn’t seen since the Bathroom Incident.

(Now she’s calling it that too, dammit.)

“Don’t think I don’t know that Turing was in there, too,” Harper continues to grate on her nerves.

“Whatcha gonna do? Call Finch and be snitch?” Shaw snorts and looks ahead to the closed elevator doors.

Harper mock-gasps next to her and Shaw just knows that she’s giving her a scandalized look right now. “After all the things we’ve been through you still think I would—”

“Then stop talking about it,” Shaw snaps and leaves the lift when it stops on her floor.

Harper’s laughter follows her until the elevator slides shut again.

 

*

 

It turns out that Turing slipped a key card into her palm. It’s warm from Shaw’s hand holding it the whole time.

The black key card says with golden font: 31020. A room on the 31st floor.

Shaw leans against the closed door, thinks about her options, and decides that at this point anything is better than facing a phone call with either Reese, Carter or—if she’s really lucky—Finch.

She leaves her phone on her bed and doesn’t bother to change out of her dress.

Then she walks back to the elevators, hoping that Finch isn’t stalking her on his laptop because he tapped into the surveillance feeds of this hotel.

 

*

 

The room is completely dark when she unlocks it.

That should’ve warned her.

She walks inside the room anyway, like some dumb fool.

It’s when she feels the taser at the back of her neck that she knows that she’s a fool. She’s reached Reese’s level of stupid.

That’s what runs through her head when she drops to the floor in that dark room.

 

*

 

Shaw is dragged to a chair and gets bound to the armrests with zip ties. The woman in front of her, who pretends to be in love with Jeremy Lambert, is smiling at her when she’s done. “Sorry, I had to do this. So we could talk.” Her black nail polish is something Shaw spots just now.

Her muscles are still locked down and she can’t move, but she really, really is going to punch this woman when she gets the chance.

“Give it another minute and you’ll be able to talk again.”

Shaw hopes her glare through half lidded eyes is still having some sort of effect on her. Judging by the amused smile, not really.

Then again, this woman seems to have a weird taste in—

And then it just clicks. There is no real reason for it, no pieces of some jigsaw puzzle that suddenly make sense in her head.

She just _knows_.

Shaw breathes hard, moves her jaw a little and is relieved to find that the effect of the taser is slowly dissipating. “You’re Root, aren’t you?” she grits out, the urge to dish out a punch or two growing with every passing second.

Root’s face lights up with a wide, toothy smile. “I knew you would figure it out.”

“Just made a wild guess.”

Root shrugs to show how little she cares about that. “You’re probably wondering why I did this,” she begins, and it sounds like this is the intro to some long, winded explanation for her motives. Shaw is weirdly excited to have Root in front of her, to finally meet the piece of shit that ruined her Berlin gig.

(And Carter was right after all: Root is indeed a woman.)

When Shaw doesn’t say anything, Root just goes on. “I bet Harry already told you all about how I locked him out of the camera feeds he wanted to hack?”

“He mentioned it,” Shaw says slowly. Just because Root is as infamous as a legend already, doesn’t mean she has to open up to this woman. In fact, it kind of implies to do the opposite. She has no clue what exactly this person is after.

She sure as hell isn’t going to let her ruin this heist, though.

They stare at each other some more. “So, what now?” Shaw asks, feeling how her shoulders finally relax after the taser attack.

Root tilts her head a little and walks away from her to sit on the bed in front of Shaw’s current seating arrangement. “I’m sorry that I had to stall you like that, but it was necessary.”

Shaw narrows her eyes. “Like that thing you did in Berlin?”

Root leans back on her hands, the mattress dipping a little under her weight, and Shaw stares a second too long at Root’s pale shoulders and neck. She spots the glowing mischief in Root’s dark eyes with delay. “I knew you could handle yourself. I just couldn’t let you ruin the installed security system locking that vault.”

“Why?”

“I rigged it, and they would’ve had to replace it if you had destroyed it, which would’ve been a shame for my plans.”

Shaw shakes her head in disbelief. This woman has some _nerve_. “You wanted the money for yourself.”

“Sweetie, I called dibs on that bank long before you even knew how to break into it,” Root tells her with a smug face. “I infiltrated the company producing the security systems, I altered them and had them installed in various banks all over Germany. And when the time is right, I can go and just grab whatever I want, and they will only notice it hours later, at best.”

Shaw stares at her, not sure what to reply to that. There is a damn good reason why Root is almost a legend. “That’s why you could lock us in,” she thinks aloud. “You were already inside the system.”

“My phone alerted me, so I knew I had uninvited guests there,” she nods. “It’s nothing personal, though. Did you know that Europol has nicknamed you as ‘Firecracker’ in their files?”

Shaw frowns at the sudden change of subject. “What?”

“I read all about you in those files. After Berlin, I mean. I’m kind of a big fan,” Root admits and smiles at her like this is a compliment and not what Shaw has suspected for quite some time now: Root admitting her stalker tendencies when it comes to her.

It’s alarming how little it bothers her, though.

And then she realizes something else. “You hacked Europol just to read about me?”

“Better.” But Root never elaborates what that implies and Shaw is not willing to be baited like that so she doesn’t prod any further. “Anyway,” Root says with a sigh. “Back to what I need to tell you.”

“You’ve been talking an awful lot already,” Shaw groans. “Why don’t you cut me loose and we take this elsewhere?” What Shaw has in mind is the floor, where Root will lie the moment she’s untied again, because she’s going to punch her so hard that there is no way she’s going to stay conscious.

Root’s darkening eyes tell Shaw that she has something completely different in mind. “Oh, really?”

Fuck. “Wait. Forget what I said,” she backtracks, but Root is on her feet again. “Just—why all this… _work_ just to get me into this room?”

Root licks her lower lip. “I watched your crew for days now, and out of all the members there I think you fit the best for what I have in mind.” There is something in her eyes that shouldn’t be there if this is really just about business.

All Shaw hears in between the lines is: I wanted to make out with you. “What are you talking about?” And how can they be watched and not notice it?

Root stalks closer. “Your crew is the best one I know. And exactly what I need.”

“You still make no sense,” Shaw informs her, in case she’s interested in her opinion.

She’s not. “You’re probably wondering why I’ve been pretending for months now to be the happy finacée of that British dickhead.”

“I’m wondering about lots of things,” Shaw mumbles under her breath, not sure if Root is close enough to hear it or not.

“You see, this heist and my extensive con project are actually one and the same,” Root continues, stopping in front of Shaw’s knees. “In fact, I am the one who got your crew that job.”

Shaw deflates at that, rolling her eyes, and stares at the ceiling for a moment. “You talked to Elias.”

“I talked to Elias,” Root confirms. “He owed me. And honestly, after what Greer has done to his business plans, he didn’t mind pretending to be the one giving you that job. This family was due for a good old fashioned revenge move.”

“Pretending to be Lambert’s fiancée is part of Elias’ revenge plan?” Shaw repeats. “Do I even wanna know what Freud would have say about that?”

Root gives her a long look. “Freud was an idiot. And besides, my con project is… more personal. But the heist? Yes, that’s Elias’ revenge if you want. It’s what I told him, at least. I started this whole thing, though, so it’s actually my way to get back at Lambert.”

Shaw bites her lip and thinks. And then she slowly starts to smile. “And you need help with it.”

“No, I—”

“You realized you couldn’t rob his ass blind on your own, so you called Elias and told him a white lie so he would get us to do this heist.”

Root rolls her eyes and huffs. “This is not what I—”

But Shaw doesn’t let her speak, because she’s on a roll now. “You couldn’t approach us directly after we got here, though, because at least four in my crew hate you. I mean, Reese has some very strong feelings about shooting you and honestly, after Berlin? I kinda get it,” she tells her and shrugs. “That’s why you tased me and tied me up.”

Root looks at her for a long moment. Then she crouches down between Shaw’s legs, making sure she isn’t actually kneeling on Shaw’s long white dress and leans with her arms on Shaw’s knees. Not only is she way too close, Shaw can look right at her—

“I don’t care about Lambert’s money, this whole con was never about robbing his casinos. What this is about is making him miserable. And during my… stay here I realized that stealing his paintings, antagonizing his board members and scratching his Ferrari isn’t going to cut it. So I’ve decided that I will ruin his life in _every_ way possible.” There is so much disgust and frustration in Root’s voice that Shaw wonders how she manages to be such a convincing actress. She’s better than Harper, that’s for sure.

Alright. She’s more than impressed.

But she’ll never say that out loud. To anyone. Ever. And because her face is even, it betrays nothing of her thoughts.

Besides, Root is too busy taking a deep breath to relax a little again. “Lambert has a very annoying security manager who is also employing Lambert’s personal security detail—and mine. Or well, Turing’s. His name is Simmons and he’s a nightmare. He has Carter already on the watch list, and she’s only a few suspicious glances away from getting red flagged,” Root explains.

Shaw gives her a confused look. “Simmons?” She’s never heard that name before.

“He’s a real piece of work. You don’t want to get on his bad side,” Root adds. “So, here’s what I need: you, working with me together. He has eyes on me almost 24/7, so I can’t act much right now.”

“Someone didn’t think this con through,” Shaw smirks at her with glee. 

Root looks a little peeved out. “The catch is, you can’t tell anyone who I am or what I am doing. You can’t even tell them that someone is helping you.”

“I’m not that easy to—”

“From tomorrow on, you’re going to be on watch duty, not Carter. We’ve been at the fundraiser together, us talking from time to time will be less suspicious than your friend watching us, no matter how subtle she is. Simmons will catch on if she keeps going.”

Shaw looks to the side. “That’s it?”

“I will lift my maze that Harold can’t break through, and you get access to the surveillance feeds back. I’ll do it smoothly so he’ll think he bested my coding,” Root smiles and shrugs. “You will continue to plan and prepare that heist, but I will give you instructions and you have to follow them or relay them to your crew. Either way, this is my gig and you are my guests.” Root’s smile is vaguely threatening.

And remembering her own misfortune of getting robbed of a successful bank robbery, Shaw knows that this woman has the power and nerves to ruin a heist like that. It’s not an empty threat for threat’s sake.

Shaw’s stomach tightens again. “And if I say no?” she husks out.

Root leans in closer, her nose almost touching Shaw’s. “You guys any closer to figuring out how to turn Samaritan off for your exit strategy?” Yes, this woman is going to fuck with their heist if she doesn’t agree to this… plan.

It’s such a simple threat. Yet so effective. “You’re an asshole,” Shaw whispers, only an inch shy from breathing it against Root’s lips.

“Is that a yes?” Root is so close, as close as she can be with that dumb dress in the way.

Shaw kisses her instead of answering.

Words are overrated anyway.

 

*

 

Root keeps her pinky promise. Shaw does come.

Twice.

 

*

 

**14 days until the night of the heist**

 

Three days after the fundraiser, they are all gathered in the warehouse to discuss the details of the heist. Some things are still unclear.

Finch still hasn’t figured out how to disable Samaritan long enough to make their exit (ideally with the money) possible. But at least he has access back to the surveillance feeds, just like Root had promised.

Root, who hasn’t tried to contact her these past three days. Which is fine with Shaw.

In return, Shaw has switched roles with Carter, just like she promised, claiming that it’s best if someone who has had contact with Turing keeps tabs on her and, more importantly, on her fiancé. Harper’s snort couldn’t have been more superfluous.

Finch and Fusco are discussing some observations Fusco has noted down, concerning how often his colleagues are switching tables, taking a break. He’s also counted as many cameras as he can without being flagged as suspicious by Samaritan who, according to Fusco, is mainly responsible for so many guests being thrown out by the security personnel directed by Simmons.

And oh boy. Root didn’t lie, that guy has some issues. Shaw had been playing at a table not too far away from Fusco, watching how Simmons and Lambert walked over the floor and talked about incidents that took place throughout the day. Simmons is driven, highly dangerous and a potential player that could ruin their night.

Shaw is still trying to figure out  how to get rid of this asshole. They’re working on it.

Meanwhile, Harper had managed to get Lambert’s attention at the fundraiser. Apparently they had talked while Shaw and Root disappeared into the bathroom. Which is something that Harper hasn’t shared with the rest of the team, of course. But now that she and Lambert are talking, it’s easier to swipe the black folder with the security codes in it with the one Reese has prepared.

“You think we can do this?” Reese asks her now, crossing his arms and watching how Frankie, Dani and Kelli are unloading stacked wads of cash that are wrapped in plastic. The money is fake, of course, and Shaw will probably never find out what kind of contacts Zoe has to get this much fake money delivered in such a short time.

“The heist or survive this pep talk?” Shaw asks back.

Reese smiles. “The heist.”

“If we can’t get rid of Simmons and Samaritan then it doesn’t look very good for us,” she tells him honestly.

Reese nods along. “Finch wants to call Nathan Ingram and ask him how something like Samaritan could be turned off.”

“We’re getting closer to hitting a dead end with this,” Shaw voices out what Reese just implied.

He sighs. “Yeah.”

“Okay, may I have your attention, please?” Finch calls to them over. “It’s time to go over the steps of the big night. Alright, thank you.” Everyone has gathered in a half-circle around Finch and now await the next instructions. “Do we all know who gets when and how to the vault?”

Some nod, others hum.

“The fight starts at 7 pm, give or take. Zoe is going to be there with the high rollers, making sure to tell us when Lambert and Turing arrive there,” Dani starts to explain and looks over at Zoe to smile at her.

“Around 6:35 pm: Dani, Reese and I are going to be on our way to the elevator shaft,” Shaw continues. “We still have to figure out how to do that.” They still have two weeks to figure this out. Plenty of time. “But, once we’re in and the fight has started, we’ll give you the word, Finch, and then you can trigger your neatly written stuxnet virus to turn the lights off for 30 seconds. After that, we get to the hallway where the guards are, take them out and zip tie them.”

Finch nods. “6:36 pm: I’ll replace the camera feeds with ours, to give you time to get unseen into the elevator and from there to the elevator shaft leading to the vault—once the fight starts, of course.”

“7:05 pm: If everything has worked out, we’re in the middle of packing the money. That’s when Leon makes the call to interrupt Lambert’s fun at the box fight,” Reese finishes their part of the plan.

“Yeah,” Leon agrees. “And, uh, before I do that, I give you guys the okay to get ready,” he says and looks at Reese, who stands right behind Carter.

“Then we’ll wait until he gets to the control room of his surveillance feeds, because let’s face it, that man is too controlling to just trust some man calling him and telling him that he’s being robbed,” Carter adds. “That’s when Finch once more replaces the surveillance feed with another one of ours.”

“Okay, but hold on a sec,” Frankie interrupts their walkthrough of the plan. “When did we shut Samaritan down?”

Finch makes a face. “Ideally before Sameen places the explosives to open the vault door. I have to figure it out, but I’m on it,” he promises. “It’s a lot more complicated than I thought. The system protects itself, it’s impossible to shut it down from the outside. I am working on it.”

“But I’m the one who’s gonna keep an eye out for Samaritan being down. The little control lights on each table are glowing green, but they should be red then,” Fusco adds.

“Oh, okay,” Frankie says and nods.

Zoe licks her lips. “At this point, I have left the box fight, too, to keep an eye on Turing. No doubt she won’t be allowed into the control room.”

“Exactly,” Carter agrees with her. “7:08 pm: We’ll be all dressed up and on our way to the hotel. That’s when Lambert should call 911 anyway. At this point, the money should be in the bags.”

“Right. I’ll meet you guys outside the hotel,” Leon says with a focused face. “I will be done talking to him.”

“Good. From here on, it’s a simple Entering and Grabbing.”

“I guess it’s best if we change before we descend the elevator shaft, right?” Dani throws in.

Finch nods. “Yes, right. That’s important to remember.”

“Alright,” Reese starts and takes a step forward. “Let’s get down to it and analyze the weak spots in this plan.”

“Samaritan,” most say in unison. Finch just sighs.

Reese nods. “Right, that’s a problem, but we’ll figure it out. I hope. Next?”

“Simmons,” Shaw says. “If that guy is around when we’re telling Lambert the vault is being robbed, we’ll have like ten men down there before we can do anything.”

Dani doesn’t look too happy about this news, and neither does Kelli. Carter and Fusco have the same frustrated expression.

Reese tries to look unperturbed. He mostly manages to bring that across. “Two things we need to figure out. But otherwise, I’d say good work.” He gives all an awkward half smile and Carter is the only one to answer it with an endeared eye roll.

Shaw looks away before she says something stupid. Not because Reese would give her a hard time, but because Carter has a mean right hook. She’s seen her punch a guy in the face, and the crack of his nose still echoes in Shaw’s memory. Yeah, better not antagonize these two lovebirds.

At least it seems like Carter has forgiven Reese for him getting arrested right before their date in Amsterdam.

 

*

 

**13 days until the night of the heist**

 

Shaw takes another slice from her pizza box and watches _The Sting_ with mild interest. She’s seen that movie already, and besides, Leon’s comments about how he doesn’t understand why this movie got so many Academy Awards are off putting.

Dani’s murderous glares at Leon seem to agree with her.

Fusco is less passive aggressive. “Shut your pie hole, Leon. It’s a good movie, just deal with it.”

“Do you even _know_ what a good movie is?”

“I know what a dead man looks like,” Shaw replies before Fusco can be baited into answering that question.

Leon makes a noise in his throat and keeps eating his pizza.

Fusco sends a grateful smile her way.

The silence doesn’t last long, because the entrance to Finch’s house opens and Harper barges in, followed by Kelli and Frankie who still pose as her bodyguards. (Frankie has made many, many references to the movie _Bodyguard_ because of that and, honestly, Shaw sometimes wonders how she’s friends with all these losers.)

(Then she remembers her stunt with Root’s taser and zip ties, and she stops thinking about this altogether.)

“This man is unbelievable!” Harper yells in the hallway, probably getting out of her high heels, judging by the breathing.

“What happened?” Dani yells back and Shaw might as well put the TV on mute now, she’s never gonna get the dialogue like this anyway.

Harper enters the living room, Frankie right behind her. Kelli walks to the kitchen and opens the fridge.

“Lambert thinks, for some reason, that I have very good connections at Blackberry and that I can get him the latest phone that isn’t even out yet!” Harper says with annoyance in her voice, waving with her hands. Then she steals a slice of pizza from Leon’s box, who looks at her, scandalized. “I mean, what am I going to do now?”

“Why is that phone important?” Shaw asks, calmly chewing on her slice. Frankie walks over to Kelli to help her raid the fridge. When Finch gets back from his phone call in his office, he probably won’t recognize his living room anymore.

Harper swallows the bite and makes a grumpy face. “The lunch meeting wasn’t even going bad. We talked about me becoming a possible investor, which he seemed to like a lot. And then he suddenly asks me about this phone, and how his fiancée mentioned that I said something about it at the fundraiser. Which I didn’t!” And now she shoots Shaw an accusing look.

Now that’s just rude. It’s not her fault Root is playing a passive aggressive puppet master here. “Okay, but what happens if you don’t get that phone? What’s the big deal?”

“Didn’t you listen? I won’t be in his good graces anymore. And then my secret might not be safe anymore, and he will find out who I really am and that I’ve been lying all along,” Harper gives back with a pointed look, getting louder with each point she’s listed.

Shaw is pretty sure that Harper isn’t talking about Lambert anymore, but more about what happened at the fundraiser with Caroline Turing.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She ignores it. “Ask Zoe,” she says and licks her fingers. “She knows everybody.”

“I can’t reach her,” Harper sighs, and then sits down next to Dani on the couch. Leon seems happy enough about this, since she’s too far away from his armchair and that means his pizza is out of her reach, too. “She’s meeting with the high rollers, I think.”

Her phone buzzes again. Fusco gives her a puzzled look. “You gonna take that or what?”

“It’s just a text message.”

“Could be important.”

“I’m eating, that’s important.”

Ten minutes later she’s outside, sitting down on the lounger near the pool and taking her phone out. Two new messages. They are both from an unknown number, but Shaw has a pretty good idea who that is.

First message reads: **We need to talk. 4 pm?**

The second message is an address to a coffee shop pretty far away from the hotel. Clever.

Her reply is simple.

**K.**

 

*

 

It’s 4:09 pm and there is still no sight of Root. Shaw is nursing her latte macchiato, but if this woman doesn’t show up by 4:15 pm, she’s gonna leave.

A minute later, Root finally arrives, dressed in tight black slacks, a simple blouse and a bag in her hands. She takes her sunglasses off and puts a strand behind her ear that has escaped her hairdo. “I’m sorry you had to wait, but Simmons’ watch dogs were particularly hard to get rid of today,” she sighs and checks the menu once she sits down.

Shaw just grunts in acknowledgment.

“I’ll just order a coffee, wait here.”

Shaw says nothing again, because where else would she go? Just leave her here after waiting ten minutes like a dumbass? Not a chance.

Root comes back with a simple iced coffee. She places it on the small round table between them, puts her bag on her lap and starts rummaging in it before she gets a small box out of it. It’s black with a white print on it. _Blackberry_.

Shaw stares at her. “What is that?”

“The solution to your problems. Finch must’ve told you by now that you need a magnetron to defeat Samaritan, am I right?”

Shaw takes the box from her hands and nods. It’s what he told them after he finished talking to his old buddy Nathan on the phone. Shaw has no idea what it is, but as long as it is something that gets the job done—she doesn’t particularly care to find out.

Root smiles at her. “That’s a magnetron, then,” she says and takes the straw between her teeth, a glimpse of her tongue—

Shaw opens the box and looks inside, expecting some voodoo thing resting in there where the phone should be. But no, it’s the real, not-yet purchasable Blackberry phone inside. She lifts her gaze and looks at Root. “How did you get this?”

“I have my ways.” 

“And how is this a magnetron?”

“It’s inside the phone,” Root says between sips. “The Blackberry works like a completely normal phone. But the moment you call it with this one here,” she continues and reaches once more into her bag to retrieve a flip phone, “it will trigger the magnetron and create an electromagnetic field. Samaritan will detect it and flag it as a threat to the system—it will start to reboot.”

Shaw takes the flip phone and turns it around in her hands. “That’s it?”

“I programmed the magnetron to only be activated if it’s called by this number,” Root continues to elaborate and holds the flip phone up once more before she places it on the table. “You will have to get the Blackberry to Lambert somehow.”

“Harper,” Shaw guesses.

“Harper,” Root repeats with a nod. “Once Samaritan starts to reboot, you’ll have 3 minutes and 20 seconds to get the money out of the vault and out of the hotel.”

Shaw puts the Blackberry back into its box and puts it together with the flip phone into her bag. “Sounds easy enough.”

“Wait six days until you hand the phone over, it’s less suspicious this way. Make something up about how you got it. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Alright,” Shaw says with a shrug. “I just hope Finch doesn’t get one of his own in that time.”

Root looks highly amused by that. “I’ll take care of that.”

“Of course you will.”

“That’s not all,” Root says and takes something else out of her bag. It’s a small device, no bigger than a matchbox—and an even smaller remote with a small black button in the middle. “You’ll need this, too.”

“For what? What is it?”

“Another magnetron, for the lock of the vault. While Samaritan is guarding the lock, it will still be locked and keep the vault closed even if Samaritan is rebooting. They operate separately, to ensure maximum safety, even if Samaritan should be threatened.”

Shaw frowns. That’s news to her, Finch has never mentioned any of this after breaking the news to them on how to take Samaritan out.

“I found out by accident,” Root continues, probably seeing the disbelief on Shaw’s face. “It’s a highly guarded secret and I am sure only three people knew about it before I arrived into Lambert’s life.”

Shaw sighs. Whatever. “So I push the button and it starts to do its thing?”

Root looks amused. “I’d attach it over the keypad next to the vault and then push the button. And only _after_ Samaritan has started to reboot. That’s it, though. After that, you can break the vault open with your explosives and then you just have to finish the heist. I’m sure you have an exit plan figured out?”

Shaw leans back and scoffs. “Please.”

“Just checking.” Root smiles.

“You want me to wait six days with this too?”

“No,” Root says and shakes her head. “You keep that. Since you are the one responsible for opening the vault, they won’t care too much how it happens as long as it gets the job done, right?”

“You want me to lie to my friends?”

“Not lie. After the heist is done, you can tell them all about our dirty little secrets,” Root teases her and takes another sip from her coffee.

Shaw looks away, but not for too long.

When she looks back, Root is checking the time on her watch. “Dammit,” she curses and gets to her feet, bag and coffee in both hands. “Looks like I have to leave you,” she says and sounds like she truly regrets it.

Shaw shrugs.

Root nods and is about to leave when Shaw calls her false name. “Yes?” She looks surprised.

“How often do you imagine yourself killing him?” Shaw asks, not sure why. It all just seems very inconvenient for her to go such lengths in pretending just to... ruin a person for whatever reason.

Root looks outside, hesitates and then walks back to the table. She doesn’t really smile when she says this, but she leans down towards Shaw. “Every day,” she whispers darkly, and then leaves Shaw sitting there without saying another word.

Damn.

 

*

 

**11 days until the night of the heist**

 

Shaw is on a stakeout with Reese, waiting for Simmons and his people to come back from the two other casinos on the strip. He’s doing his rounds at the same time each day, always accompanied by a bunch of his minions. They still haven’t seen all the people working for him, though. That’s why Finch has sent them to check this out.

Right now they’re eating burgers from the burger joint at the corner that has 24/7 open hours, keeping an eye on a black SUV that is parked in front of the casino closest to the hotel.

Well, Shaw is eating. Reese is explaining to her how his relationship with Carter is a wonderful thing—for the most part.

“And then I had to do it.”

“All of them?”

“Every single plate,” Reese sighs and puts another fry into his mouth. Here sits a man fresh out of prison, and he whines about having to do the dishes. “Relationships can be so…” He shrugs and looks to Shaw.

She’s just taken a huge bite from her burger. “You’re a wimp,” she chews and rolls her eyes. “Why would you even say: ‘You also ate dinner’? Just do the damn dishes. You wanna repeat the big first date fiasco from Amsterdam?” She gives him a pointed look.

There is a pause.

She gets a funny look back. “She didn’t tell you?” Reese wonders and frowns, putting his soft drink back down in the drink holder between their seats.

Now Shaw’s the one to frown. “Told me what?”

“You really thought we just had some date planned in Amsterdam? The night I got arrested?”

“Dude, you got arrested in a _tux_. I saw it, Finch hacked some CCTVs and Leon sent me the pics.”

Reese’s look turns incredulous. “Who goes on a date dressed in a tux?” he asks her with raised eyebrows.

Shaw closes her teeth around a few fries and shrugs. “Don’t ask me, I don’t go on dates. I don’t date, that hasn’t changed, dumbass.”

“Shaw,” Reese says and now he looks like he’s in a lot of pain. “I wore a tux because Joss and I wanted to get married that night.”

Shaw almost chokes on her soft drink that she’d just started to drink from. She spits the straw out and then stares at him. After a few seconds of stunned silence pass, she starts hitting him. “You idiot!”

“Hey!”

“How could you do that! It’s a wonder she let you live, man! _You left her at the altar_?” 

“No! It was some small— _stop punching me, Shaw_! I didn’t want to do this, but I found out that they were after me and I wanted to, you know, hide and postpone the whole thing. I wanted to call her, but they got me sooner than I thought, so I couldn’t warn her and—yeah, I stood her up.”

“Yeah, you did. _For three years_ , John! God, I can’t believe this,” Shaw huffs and shakes her head. Her fingers press into her temple, and she looks out of the window. The driver of that black SUV is still waiting, so that means Simmons is still making his rounds. “She’s too good for you,” she says and shakes her head.

“I know.”

“How can you even whine about doing the dishes? What is wrong with you?” He should be lucky Carter is still talking to him.

“I _know_.”

“I’m so—” She doesn’t finish her sentence, because she sees Simmons approach the car. The driver that was leaning outside, smoking quickly gets back inside. Shaw counts two other men and one woman next to Simmons.

Shaw groans.

“What’s wrong?”

“I really wish I didn’t have to see her stupid face ever again,” Shaw grumbles and puts the car into gear. They got what they came for. “Clock the time. It’s 6:22 pm.”

“Got it. You know that woman?”

“Yes,” Shaw says in a dark tone. “That’s Martine Rousseau.”


End file.
